


Tea and Travel

by curious_cat



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Gen, Post-Canon, Viktor and Yuuri and Yuri acting like the family they are, stress-induced tea making, winter travel is so stressful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-19 08:22:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9429815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curious_cat/pseuds/curious_cat
Summary: An unexpected snowstorm has grounded all flights out of St. Petersburg.  This is a problem because Viktor and the Yuris have a Grand Prix Final they need to get themselves to. Why didn't they fly out earlier?  Well you can blame Viktor for that...





	1. Chapter 1

Snow was falling in St. Petersburg. Yuuri watched it soften the edges of buildings and fill the streets. He sighed, breath fogging the windowpane, and turned to his fiancé. 

“Will we still make it out in time, do you think? …Vitya?” 

“Sorry,” Viktor said as he looked up from his phone. “Reading the weather reports. This is much more snow than they expected, and a lot of flights have been delayed.” He stood up and went to Yuuri at the window, wrapping an arm around his waist. The other man leaned into him and let out a pent up breath. Viktor whistled slightly at the rapidly whitening landscape. 

“It doesn’t look like it’s planning to stop anytime soon does it? We really might not be able to leave today.”

“How are you so calm about this? We have to be halfway across the world for the Grand Prix Final tomorrow. _Tomorrow,_ Vitya!”

“This is winter in St. Petersburg, Yuuri. These things happen.” Viktor began to rub soothing circles on his fiancé’s back. He was rewarded with a slight relaxation of Yuuri’s tensed shoulders. In an undertone he said, “Though you were right, we should have left early with Yakov and the junior skaters.”

Yuuri huffed a laugh. “What was your argument for staying? Something about practicing longer in familiar territory?”

“Well, I thought it would be less nerve-wracking.” He grinned at Yuuri’s expression of mock outrage. “I know, I know, but look, this storm was not supposed to be anything major.” Outside snow continued to fall in heavy clumps, slowly obliterating the city. A gust of wind rattled the windows and dislodged a shower of snow from the balcony above. Yuuri shivered violently and buried himself in Viktor’s chest. 

“We’re actually going to be late and miss the final Vitya. Vitya, we could really fail because of the damn weather. That could happen. To us. After everything we’ve been though.” All this came out in a muffled torrent while Viktor made soothing noises and held his fiancé as tightly as he could. He didn’t know any better way to get Yuuri through his panic. 

Out of nowhere the buzzer rang. Yuuri jumped and narrowly avoided hitting his head on Viktor’s chin. Viktor for his part rushed to the door and answered the call. “Da? Who is this?”

“It’s me, let me in.”

“Yurio! Yes come right up.” A minute later the door opened to admit an irate teenager. Yuri Plitsetsky stomped snow off his boots and dropped a suitcase and skating bag on the apartment floor. 

“But Yurio, what are you doing here now? Our flight’s not supposed to leave until later today!” Viktor said as he took Yuri’s coat. 

“Yeah, well have you looked outside? I was afraid if I didn’t get over here now I would never make it and be stuck in Yakov’s house forever. As it was I nearly died!” He shook snow out of his hair and glared at them. “It’s your damn fault we’re still here at all and not happily in Canada! _Why_ did I let you convince me to stay late?” He said the last mostly to himself. Yuuri and Viktor exchanged a glance. 

“Since you’re here, do you want a cup of tea?” Facing only a further glare, Yuuri shrugged at him. “What else is there to do? It – it’s not like we can fly out anytime soon.” After Yuri’s grunted assent, the Japanese man went to put on hot water, hiding his shaky breathing in the ritual. Viktor brushed a hand against his shoulder in passing. 

Ignoring them, Yuri threw himself down on the couch. He disturbed Makkachin, who shifted from her customary napping spot to sniff at him. He patted the top of her head and she whuffled appreciatively before settling back down to sleep on Yuri’s feet. “Spasibo,” he muttered distractedly when Yuuri handed him a cup of green tea. What felt to Yuri like hours passed in a haze of suppressed tension. Viktor took his own mug of tea and curled up in a chair to browse the internet. Yuuri alternated between sitting on the floor by Viktor’s chair and pacing around the living room. During one such interlude, Viktor got up to intercept his fiancé and wound up going onto their balcony to brave the outside. He returned after less than a minute with flushed cheeks and hair swept even more over his eyes than usual.

“Yeah, that’s a storm all right,” he said at Yuuri’s concerned look, pushing snow-covered silver hair out of his face. 

“Told you.” called Yuri before Yuuri could respond. “The bus almost slid into the shelter at the stop and there were like seven cars stuck on the road.”

When twenty minutes later Viktor looked up from his laptop to announce that their flight was cancelled it came as no surprise. The storm had been steadily worsening all morning. “The airport is completely closed down from what I can tell.”

“I think the whole city is closed. Look Yurio, nothing is moving on the street at all.”

Yuri raised himself up on his elbows long enough to say, “Uh-huh, no one is stupid enough to go out in that mess. I’ll be stuck with you idiots forever.” He laid down and stretched to take up the entire couch, Makkachin having long since abandoned him for Viktor. Partway through extending his legs, Yuri twisted suddenly to face his compatriot. Viktor raised a questioning eyebrow at him. 

“Hey what happens if we do miss the competition? We’re half the competitors, they couldn’t hold it without us, could they?” Yuri was watching Viktor with an intensity that belied the causal tone of his question. Viktor looked and saw an identical anxious expression on his fiancé’s face. 

“Well,” he paused. 

“What?”

“They can’t reschedule the events because the television programming is set. They might let us skate the short programs at a different time, but they could also make us compete without them.” Yuuri took a deep breath, making Viktor worry that he might break down again. Instead, he had helpful advice. 

“We should call Yakov. We should have done that hours ago now I think about it.”

“Of course!” Viktor pressed a palm to his forehead. “I can also talk to the event organizers and explain –,”

Yuuri cut him off. “I’ll call the ISU, you need to call the airline and try to get us a new flight. My Russian isn’t good enough for that.”

“Right. Yurio, you call Yakov then. Tell him we’re stuck here. Blame me if you need to.”

Yuri sat up. “Don’t have to tell me twice.” He flicked on his phone and pulled up Yakov’s number. Viktor studied his laptop screen for a moment then walked into the hallway, dialing the airline. A stream of Russian issued from the bedroom. Plugging one ear to block that and the sound of Yuuri identifying himself to an ISU official from the kitchen, Yuri waited for Yakov to pick up. 

“Yura! Have you left St. Petersburg yet?”

“Uh. No. There’s this huge storm.”

“What storm? What do you mean? When will you get to Toronto?” Yakov’s voice was getting progressively louder, never a good sign. 

“It’s a snowstorm. Everything is closed down and the flights are all cancelled. I nearly died getting to Viktorandyuuri’s house, it was horrible.”

“You – what? You’re with them? Are you _going_ to get here on time?” Yuri by now was holding the phone four centimeters away from his ear. Hearing Yakov, Makkachin barked excitedly. Yuuri reached down to take the phone, stroking Makka with his free hand. 

“Yakov, hello.”

“Someone with sense, finally! What is going on?”

“A blizzard has shut down everything, like Yurio said. Vitya’s on hold with the airline trying to get us on a new flight but I don’t think anything will leave until it stops snowing.”

“And that will be…”

“Since it has snowed all day without slowing down I have no idea. I talked to the ISU about what to do if we’re late but –,”

“I will talk to them too. Surely they would not compete without the three of you there.”

“Oh – well. I hope so. We’ll do our best to get ourselves out of here.”

“You’d better. And tell Vitya I said that.”

Yuuri handed the phone back, saying, “Here, Yurio.” He went to check on Viktor, followed by Makkachin wanting attention. 

“Yurotchka?”

“Uhnm.”

“Did you lock my house when you left?”

“Yes, Yakov.”

“And you packed all your gear?”

“Yes, Yakov.”

“Yurotchka, it will be all right. You’ll get here.”

“Uhnh.” After a telling silence from his coach, he added, “Yes, I will!” with a passable attempt at enthusiasm. 

“That’s my boy! I’ll see you soon.”

“’Bye.” Yuri exhaled as he set his phone down. He got up and went to glare out at the storm standing between him and a second Grand Prix Final gold. Japanese Yuuri had been right. Nothing was moving except the relentless fall of snowflakes, swirling in the occasional gust of wind. As he watched the storm picked up, heavy snow blocking everything except the balcony from view. He crossed his arms and hunched his shoulders against an imagined chill. Coming from nowhere, Makkachin bounded between him and the window and put her paws on his chest. 

“Agh! Gettoff!” Yuri flailed frantically to keep the dog from licking his face. The older Yuuri started to laugh. Finally, he called Makka over to him and gave her a rough hug. 

“You daft dog you, don’t bother Yurio you know he’s a cat person!” 

“Huh. Damn right I am.” He glared as Yuuri stood up, still laughing a little.

“Hey, um, do want more tea? Or we have hot chocolate. Coffee too but I don’t think you should drink that this late in the day...” Yuri just frowned at the storm, so Yuuri continued, “Come on, have something.” 

“Hot chocolate sounds good, I guess.” 

“Great!” They sat at the table, mugs of steaming liquid cradled in their hands. Both avoided looking at the storm. 

“Yuuri?”

“Hm?” Yuuri tore his gaze away from the window yet again to focus on the teenager. 

“You seem so calm about all this. Why aren’t you more nervous?”

“We’ll either get there or we won’t, so no use worrying. Is what I’ve told myself at least fifty times today. I don’t think it’s helping much actually.” He tightened his grip on the mug.

“So… you’re not calm.”

“Not even a little bit.” 

“But, you aren’t like, freaking out. You just keep making tea.” Yuri shoved hair out of his eyes, staring at the man across from him.

“Making tea is how everyone in my family copes with stress, Yurio.” Yuuri shook his head to clear fog off his glasses. “I think I’m just too tired now to flip out. Or something.” A burst of angry Russian from the bedroom interrupted them. Yuuri smiled wryly as he said, “Sounds like Vitya’s making progress with the airline." They sat in silence for a few minutes. Makkachin put her head in Yuuri’s lap and he stroked her absently. Yuri thought about his cat and blinked hurriedly to disguise tears. He took another sip of chocolate and felt steadier. His phone buzzed.

“Oh, it’s Mila!” He slid his finger across the screen to accept her call.

“Hi, Mila!” Yuri mustered a smile for the grinning redhead.

“Yura! Yakov said you all were stuck in St. Petersburg!”

“Yeah.” 

“Show her the blizzard,” said Yuuri, who had looked up.

“Oh, right. Here.” Yuri walked over to the window and pointed his phone out into the whirling snow.

“Shit, that’s quite a storm!”

“I know! I’m going to be trapped in this apartment forever! Storm’ll probably bury the building before it’s done.”

“Now Yura, don’t be melodramatic. Is that Yuuri behind you? Hi Yuuri!”

“Hey Mila.”

“And Makkachin too?”

“Yep!” They both laughed as Makkachin stood on Yuuri’s knees to peer at the phone. Viktor walked in, running a hand through his hair. 

“Well, I did what I could and we’re on standby for the next flight that goes out, which is tomorrow morning.” He bent down to scratch Makkachin’s ears.

“Mila’s on the phone,” said Yuuri.

“Hi Mila! How are you? Is this coffee?” he added, picking up Yuuri’s mug. 

“No, it’s hot choc–,”

“Hot chocolate, right,” Viktor muttered as he took a sip. He handed the mug back to Yuuri and went to boil water for coffee. While Mila told them about her day in Toronto, Yuri walked around the table and flopped into his chair. 

“Everyone’s asking about you,” Mila said. “Even the press grilled Yakov about it.”

“I’m sorry about that, but I don’t think there’s much we can do,” said Viktor. 

“One thing’s for sure: we won’t get any paparazzi here,” said Yuuri.

“Hah, yeah. No one can get at us through this.” Yuri waved the hand holding his phone at the window, causing Mila to exclaim. “Sorry.” He brought his arm down. The lights flickered once, then went out. They stared at each other in the sudden darkness, hearing the howl of the wind clearly over the lack of noise from the appliances. 

“What happened?” said Mila into the oppressive quiet.

Viktor said, “Our power went out. Yura, you should probably save your phone battery in case it doesn’t come back.”

“Um, right. Sorry Mila.”

“No, no it’s fine. Talk to you later!”

“Bye. Thanks for calling.” Viktor’s teapot whistled, startling all of them. He took it off the burner. “At least we have a gas stove and can still cook.”

“Yeah… why is it so dark outside? It’s only like 3 in the afternoon!” Yuuri had gone over to the window and was fiddling with the blinds.

“We’re far north. There’s only a few hours of daylight in the winter even on nice days.”

“I’m still not used to it. Whose idea was it to build a city here anyway?”

“Peter the Great,” muttered Yuri. He went to turn on his phone, then checked himself. “Now what do we do?” he asked of the room in general. Viktor poured himself a cup of coffee and sat next to his fiancé. 

“I’m going to drink this coffee and then probably take a nap.” Yuuri scooted his chair over and leaned his head on Viktor’s shoulder. 

“Your caffeine tolerance is ridiculous Vitya,” Yuuri yawned. “You don’t even notice the inherent contradiction in that sentence.”

“What? It’s only a cup.” Viktor twined their hands together, Yuuri’s ring glinting in the scant light. He planted a kiss on Yuuri’s head. Seeing the teenaged Yuri roll his eyes, Viktor said, “There are candles in the living room if you want to light them. Matches should be in the drawer by the sink.” Grumbling, Yuri got up and brought candles into kitchen. The flare of the first match threw deep shadows on their faces. Soon the room was suffused with warm flickering light. Yuuri sighed, still leaning on Viktor. 

“Should we figure out what we’re doing for dinner?”

Yuri straightened up. “Can we make pirozhki?”

“Sure. Oh no wait, we can’t use the oven.”

“It’s perfectly possible to light the oven without power,” said Viktor. “All you have to do is stick you head in while the gas is on and find the pilot light with a match.” They looked at the shadow-shrouded oven. 

“I could do a stir-fry.” said Yuuri after a moment. “There’s rice. Do we have any decent vegetables?”

“Some frozen maybe, I mostly cleaned out the fridge since I naively assumed we would be leaving on a trip.” Viktor downed the last of his coffee and he and Yuuri got up to rummage in the freezer for food. Yuri sank his chin in his hands and stared at a candle flame, mesmerized. A few minutes later they had some chicken thawing in the sink and Yuuri was clearing the counters in preparation for cooking. He looked up as someone knocked sharply on the door. Viktor walked over to answer it, picking up a candlestick as he did so to bring light into the dark entryway. 

“Hello Vitya!”

“Irina! Come in, come in.” He swung the door wide to admit a middle-aged women draped in a robe over her clothes. 

“Your power is out too, then?” asked Viktor, gesturing to the flashlight in her hand. 

“Yes, I think the whole block must be. At least the street light outside my window is dark. Though that might just be the snow covering it.”

“You remember Yuri Plisetsky? From the rink? Yurio this is our neighbor across the hall.” Yuri raised his head long enough to say “Hi” before pillowing it on his arms again. Irina chuckled.

“I remember him, we’ve met before.” Makkachin had bounded over to investigate the visitor, and Irina scratched her ears, murmuring a greeting. At Viktor’s invitation she sat down at the table and accepted Yuuri’s offer of tea. He put a kettle on and successfully lit the burner with a match on his second try, forestalling Viktor’s motion to help. 

Irina said, “I just dropped by to check on Makkachin, in case you had somehow managed to fly out as scheduled.”

“Well thank you for thinking of it. We’re not going to leave until tomorrow morning at the earliest.”

“Ah, I thought as much. I’ll come back then to take her on her walk. Won’t I?” she addressed to the dog, patting her.

“I do appreciate it. And Makka likes seeing you too.” They chatted as Irina drank her tea. Even Yuri was drawn in when she asked him about his grandfather’s pirozhki recipe, which she’d gotten to sample once. Viktor was replacing one of the smaller candles which had burned down when she rose to leave.

“Won’t you stay for dinner?” asked Yuuri. “I’m making a stir-fry.”

“Oh no thank you, I have a pot of shchii on the stove at home. Thanks much for the tea and company though.”

“Of course, anytime! And thanks again for checking in,” said Viktor as he led her to the door. Yuri slouched over to the couch and curled up under a blanket while the older Yuuri started cooking. Viktor took Makkachin out for her walk, bundling himself up under several layers of coats and scarves. As a final touch he added a fur hat. 

“Wish me luck!” he called as he and Makkachin left.

“Don’t freeze,” said Yuri through his blanket. Within ten minutes they were back, both lightly dusted with snow and Viktor with flushed cheeks. 

“It’s still snowing, but coming down more slowly,” Viktor reported, dodging Makkachin as she shook herself and sent snow flying everywhere. “And not too cold, except when the wind blows.” He hung up his last coat and sat down at the table. Yuuri handed him a cup of coffee, leaning down for a quick kiss as he did so. 

“Ooh, your lips are freezing,” he said. Viktor beamed up at him.

“Yours are so warm.” The pan on the stove sizzled, breaking the moment. Yuuri jumped to check on it. He brought the pan over to the table, holding it next to one of the candles.

“What are you doing?” Viktor asked, his voice betraying a laugh. 

“I can’t tell if the onions are cooked or not, it’s so dark by the stove.” Yuuri sniffed the pan. “No, I think they need more time.” Out of the corner of his eye he caught Viktor smiling at him with a warmth that erased the chill in the room. He grinned to himself as he added ginger to the pan. Eventually Yuuri declared his stir fry cooked and set the table for dinner. The three of them huddled in the circle of candlelight, passing food back and forth at constant risk of setting their sleeves on fire. Yuri said almost nothing but had three helpings, plus some chicken he let Makkachin steal. Viktor and his fiancé spoke softly. 

As they finished eating, Viktor held up his hand and said, “Listen.” The wind had picked up and was whistling with an eerie tone. As its undulating howl filled the room, Yuri buried his head in his arms. 

“Make it stop,” he said softly. Viktor put a hand on his shoulder but Yuri shrugged him off. Yuuri hesitated, then got a blanket off the couch and draped it over the teenager. He gave Yuri a half hug and raised his eyebrows slightly in surprise when Yuri accepted it. He and Viktor slowly cleared the dishes. When Viktor went to sit in the living room, Yuri followed him and curled up on the couch. Makkachin joined him there and stuck her nose in his face, so he put an arm around her. Yuuri returned from the bedroom carrying his laptop. 

“Do we want to watch a movie or something? This has a lot of battery left.”

“Sure. Yura?”

“Mmphh.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Yuuri pulled up an old favorite and set his laptop on the coffee table. Viktor collected pillows and sat on the floor in front of the couch with his fiancé. Yuuri leaned back and let the sound of his native language wash over him. Russian Yuri sat forward to peer at the subtitles. 

“I like this girl.” he announced. “She has more sense than her parents.” Yuuri chuckled. They passed a few hours like that, curled together against the darkness. When the movie ended Viktor shifted and sat up. He looked at Yuri, illuminated in the light from the laptop screen. The teenager’s eyes were closed. He nudged his fiancé. 

“I think he’s asleep,” Viktor said under his breath.

“’M not.” Yuri curled himself more tightly. Grinning at each other, Viktor and Yuuri gathered up their blankets. Yuri roused enough to let Viktor make him a bed on the couch with the extra pillows and blankets. 

“You know,” said Yuuri, who was peering out the window, “It might have stopped snowing.” Viktor opened the balcony door and stuck his arm out, palm up. 

“Yeah, it has,” he said. Yuuri stalked over to him and closed the door against the rush of cold air. 

“Yay,” Yuri cheered weakly. “Death to the storm from hell.” 

“Hear, hear,” said Viktor. He hugged his fiancé, who pressed their foreheads together and breathed deep. Yuri dragged himself over to his suitcase and pulled out a toothbrush and toothpaste. He dug through the rest of it in increasing desperation.

“Damn,” he said, “I forgot to bring a nightshirt.”

“You can borrow one of my t-shirts,” said Viktor, finally breaking his embrace with Yuuri. “It’ll be long on you.”

Yuri growled. Then he sighed. “Fine.” A minute later he added, “I am taller you know.”

“Still not as tall as me,” said Viktor as he tossed Yuri an oversized t-shirt. Yuri got himself ready for bed, only bumping the counter a few times in the dark unfamiliar bathroom. He threw himself down on the couch and closed his eyes. Viktor washed dishes as quietly as possible in the kitchen, then he blew out all the candles, murmuring “Good night,” as he extinguished the one on the coffee table. Viktor retreated to the bedroom.

It was not a particularly restful night for anyone. Yuri struggled to get comfortable on the couch. Viktor held his Yuuri close to him, but his fiancé was still tense and slept only fitfully. At 2 am, the power came back. The sudden flare of light brought Yuri awake yelling. He fell off the couch in a tangle of blankets, summoning Viktor, who ran in with an arm shielding his eyes from the glare. 

“Here,” he helped Yuri back into bed and went around turning off all the lights. 

“Viktor?”

“Try and get some sleep Yura, we leave in about four hours.” Viktor patted Makkachin, who had chosen to stay with Yuri and was getting herself re-oriented. Smothering a huge yawn, Viktor staggered back to his own bed. Storm from hell, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic of course has nothing at all to do with the fact that I got stuck in my least favorite airport while trying to get home for break. 
> 
> that being said, I really enjoyed writing this! and thank you so much for reading it. this is my first published fic so please let me know what you think!
> 
> have a good day! 
> 
> love,  
> Cat


	2. Chapter 2

Darkness lurked around the edges of the living room. Yuri stretched, reaching as far as he could towards the ceiling. He bent back and his spine creaked. 

“It’s too early,” he said unthinkingly in Russian, watching Viktor as he bustled around the kitchen. When Viktor didn’t respond he repeated himself more loudly. 

“I know,” said Viktor briefly in the same language, barely looking up. “Want anything to eat?”

“Not really,” Yuri yawned. “What’s wrong with him?” He gestured to Yuuri, who was sitting at the table with eyes unfocused. He looked as if he’d been raised from the dead with only partial success. 

“Oh, he has so much trouble with mornings. Here love, have something to drink.” Viktor handed his fiancé a freshly brewed mug of tea. Yuuri stirred in response.

“Wha… thank you.” Both waited as he slowly took a sip. Yuuri’s eyes fell closed. Viktor shrugged. 

“We will have to wait a while for conversation to kick in.” He took his place at the table with his coffee. “Have a seat. Are you all packed?”

“Yeah… mostly. Can I bring your shirt to Canada?”

“Of course.” Yuri rubbed his eyes, frowning at the harsh electric light over the table. Viktor had not bothered to raise the blinds and the apartment was starkly illuminated in whites and grays.

“Too early for this shit,” he said again. Viktor could only nod. Yuri glanced at him. “Hey, not going to correct my fucking language?”

“Not at this time in the morning,” muttered Viktor, wincing slightly. He took a huge swallow of coffee and coughed at the heat. 

“What’re we talking about?” said Yuuri. His eyes focused properly on Viktor for the first time that morning. Viktor smiled and switched to English.

“Yura was saying it’s too early.” Yuuri nodded a few times, eventually saying, “Yeah, I agree.”

“Well, we should leave in about half an hour. Yurio, when you finish packing make sure your skates and costumes are in your carry-on. We have a short layover in Amsterdam so just in case the checked bags don’t make it –,” 

“Yeah yeah, got it,” said Yuri. Viktor raised his eyebrows.

“Anyway, are you sure you don’t want to drink or eat something? There might not be anything good at the airport.”

“No, I’m fine.” Yuri got up and began gathering clothes to put in his suitcase. Viktor sighed and finished his coffee, then headed to the bedroom to do a final check on his own luggage. Yuuri slowly drank tea until he felt more alive. Methodically, he put away the mugs and turned off the lights in the kitchen. He went to the bedroom. Viktor stood up when he entered and cupped Yuuri’s chin in his hand.

“Feeling more awake?” he asked.

“A little,” said Yuuri, his gaze steady. Viktor kissed him gently.

“Hey, today will be stressful but I know we’ll make it. And you’ll perform your best program ever!” Yuuri dropped his eyes, blushing a little. 

“You will too, Vitya,” he said as he leaned into his fiancé’s hug. 

With much yawning and rubbing of eyes they gathered their things and stood in the entryway, ready to leave. Viktor and Yuuri both gave Makkachin a goodbye pat. Viktor chuckled when she twitched her ears but refused to wake fully. Yuuri turned off the final lights, and Viktor closed the door and locked all three locks. As he turned the final bolt home, he looked at the others. “Here we go!”

“Hai,” said Yuuri as the other Yuri said “Right!” They grinned at each other. Outside, the taxi Viktor had called arrived promptly and they loaded their bags in the trunk. Viktor made small talk with the driver in front while the Yuris gazed around at the snowbound city. Even in the darkness, the snow adorning every building and railing glowed. The only other traffic was a lone snowplow on a cross street, its lights flashing rhythmically. The peace of the moment was disturbed when, as they crossed a small bridge, the cab’s wheels suddenly lost traction and the car slid toward the river. With a yell, Yuri was thrown into Yuuri’s lap. The driver cursed fluently as his wheels spun and then caught. The car crabbed its way back onto the road. They all sat still in shock, hearts beating fast. Yuri picked himself up, pulling his long hair into a temporary ponytail. Viktor lowered his hand from his mouth. 

“Sorry about that, sirs,” said the driver. “Fuckin’ storm.” He started cautiously forward. Viktor looked back and his eyes met Yuuri’s. After a moment of silent communication, Viktor managed a small smile. A stray gust of wind blew a shower of snow off the bridge’s railing and Yuri shivered. When they reached the airport, Viktor tipped the cabby generously, still a little shaken. He drew himself up as the three of them faced the terminal. 

“Well that woke me up quick,” said Yuuri, taking Viktor’s hand. “Let’s go catch our plane.” Viktor shot him a glance and squeezed his hand. Once through security, they set up camp at their gate. Yuuri’s adrenalin-fueled energy drained away and he slumped in his chair, staring at nothing. Curled up across from him, Yuri put on headphones. The teenager was still shivering slightly despite the warmth inside, so Viktor wordlessly threw a red-and-white Team Russia jacket at him and headed to the coffee shop for hot drinks. Yuri tucked the jacket around his legs and hunched his shoulders. 

Yuuri jerked awake when Viktor handed him a cup of tea. “Vitya,” he said, “You know I barely slept. Having me drink tea won’t really make up for it.” 

“I realize that, but it must be better than not having tea. You always say so, anyway.”

“Hmph.” Yuuri watched as Viktor handed Yuri his drink.

“Coffee with milk and two sugars, Yura,” Viktor was saying. Yuri grunted thanks. He took a swallow and some color returned to his cheeks. The sound system crackled and the gate agent made an announcement in Russian, then English. Yuuri registered the look of panic on Viktor’s face before his tired brain could interpret the Russian. 

“Flight 8107 service to Amsterdam has been delayed thirty minutes. Departure time is now seven thirty-five.” Yuuri’s eyes widened. 

“Our layover is only half an hour, isn’t it?” he asked Viktor. His fiancé was frantically pulling up boarding passes on his phone. Yuri watched them silently, headphones around his neck.

“Forty-five minutes, not that it helps much now. I’ll figure out what to do.” Viktor got up and went to talk to the gate agent. He came back a few minutes later, brushing his bangs out of his face. “We just have to hope that fifteen minutes is enough time to change planes, because the next flight from Amsterdam to Toronto is not until three thirty, which would get us to the rink at eight at the earliest.”

“And we perform at nine,” said Yuuri. “Fuck,” he muttered. He met Yuri’s eyes. “Don’t you use language like that Yurio,” he added. Yuri snorted despite himself.

“It was already bad enough,” said Viktor, “getting to the rink at one thirty like we planned. Even that is so little warm up time…” The lid of Yuri’s cup snapped off and he shoved his arm away from him to avoid spilling coffee on his lap. Viktor half-levitated out of his chair while Yuuri dug in his bag for a napkin.

“Sorry, sorry, oh no I got some on your jacket!” said Yuri as he scrambled to set the cup aside.

“It’s fine,” Viktor said tightly. Yuri mopped up in tense silence as Viktor crossed his arms and leaned back. Yuuri finished his tea in small quick sips. He took Yuri’s napkins and went to throw them away along with his cup. When he sat down again, he looked between Viktor and Yuri, neither of whom had moved. He opened his phone to check the time, sighed, and closed his eyes. Half an hour later, they blearily boarded the plane. Viktor helped Yuri hoist his bag into the overhead compartment, but otherwise the two ignored each other. Yuuri sank gratefully into a window seat, leaning out to see the familiar shape of the wing through the glass. The woman next to him looked only slightly less tired than he felt. 

“Delayed because of the weather?” she asked in Russian. Yuuri rubbed his forehead to give himself time to come up with the right words, then explained briefly about the competition. She tsked in sympathy, then as the cabin lights went down closed her eyes to sleep. Yuuri wished he could do the same. He plugged earbuds into his phone and put on music that sometimes helped him relax, but by the end of the flight his shoulders still ached with tension. 

Red and blue lights blurred together as the plane landed in Amsterdam. Yuuri frowned to see that it was still dark. He’d been awake hours already. Despite nearly a year of living in St. Petersburg he’d still not adapted to winter at such high latitudes. The cabin lights came on and people stirred awake. “Yuuri,” Viktor called from a few rows ahead “Come forward!” 

Yuuri waved back at him and made his way through the throng, saying in English and Russian, “Sorry, excuse me, sorry, tight connection,” People made room and he met up with Viktor, dragging his skating bag. 

“We need to be first off the plane,” said his fiancé, and he nodded. They collected Yuri on their way forward and soon stood by the exit. Viktor asked for gate information from the flight attendant. 

“Your gate is only about ten gates to the left from this one,” she said. “You can make it if you run. I’ll send a message so they expect you.”

“Thank you,” said Viktor, taking her hand briefly. The door opened and they were off. Viktor with his longer legs made it to the gate first. The agent was closing the door. He waved his phone with the boarding passes at them, completely out of breath. “Wait, stop! Let us on!” he gasped. The agent closed the door with a heavy thump. Viktor’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Please,” he added, softening his expression into the puppy dog eyes that had sometimes persuaded even Yakov. Yuuri came up behind him and caught at his arm. The gate agent sighed and held out their hand for the phone. 

Viktor beamed and squeezed Yuuri’s arm. “Come on Yurio!” said Yuuri, waving to the blonde as he came into view. Yuri peered anxiously at them through hair that had escaped its ponytail in the rush. 

“Three more passengers coming down the jet bridge,” said the gate agent into their radio. They unlocked the door with another sigh and ushered the skaters through. Yuri was still out of breath.

“Thank you, so much,” Viktor said to them, flashing a brilliant smile. As the group walked down the jet bridge they all took a breath and released it simultaneously. 

“We might actually make it!” said Yuuri. With his free hand he rubbed the bridge of his nose under his glasses. 

“I knew we would,” said Viktor. 

His fiancé snorted. “Stop lying dear, I can still feel your hand shaking.” Behind them, Yuri took another deep breath and clutched Viktor’s coffee-stained jacket more tightly around his shoulders. On the plane, a flight attendant hurried to show them to their seats and load their bags. Yuuri scooted his way into another window seat, displacing a woman who had clearly hoped to have the extra space for herself. A familiar manicured hand reached from behind to tap him on the shoulder. 

“Vitya?” Yuuri twisted around to find Viktor grinning at him from the seat directly behind his. 

“We can talk to each other! Almost, anyway.” 

“I was hoping to get some sleep, Vitya.” Yuuri pretended not to see his fiancé’s disappointed pout. He sat back and pulled the airline blanket over his knees. As the plane taxied to the runway, Viktor began regaling his seatmates with the saga of their journey. 

“Is that your fiancé, then?” asked the woman next to him. 

“Yeah, we’re figure skaters trying to get to an international competition…”

“I heard,” she pointed behind them. “He’s very handsome.”

“Oh! Um, yes he is.” Yuuri shifted in his seat. As the plane took off he put his earbuds in, forestalling further conversation. Halfway over the Atlantic, flight attendants came around to serve a meal. Viktor poked Yuuri, causing him to mutter, “Mmph, I’m awake, I’m awake.” Viktor also asked the flight attendant for a favor.

“Can you possibly carry a message to the blonde teenager a few rows ahead? Tell him he needs to eat a full meal, and I’ll pay for any other food he wants.” The flight attendant nodded.

“No problem sir,” he said. A few minutes later, Yuri stalked back to address Viktor directly. 

“Why you gotta bother me about food, old man! I can watch out for myself!” he said, more loudly than he’d intended. Viktor bristled and responded in kind. The man next to him hunched his shoulders and turned up the volume on his tablet while his wife jerked out of a doze. Yuuri’s seatmate nudged him.

“Your fiancé and his relative are arguing about something,” she said. Yuuri removed his earbuds with one tug. He listened to the tirade of Russian for a moment, then stood up.

“Both of you stop,” he said. They did, Yuri blinking in surprise. “Right. Vitya, Yuri’s smart enough to know what he needs, you don’t have to needle him. Yurio, Viktor is just trying to take care of you and he’s as tired and stressed as you are. Don’t pick a fight with him.” Yuri looked down, his ears going red. Yuuri continued. “Hey, look I just want to get some sleep and eat something so I can still compete this evening, okay? Try to do the same.” He waited for Yuri to make eye contact. Finally, the teenager nodded, glanced briefly at Viktor, and went back to his seat. 

Yuuri breathed out as he sat down. After a moment Viktor passed him a folded sheet of paper. _I’m sorry_ , it said, complete with a little heart. Yuuri sighed and began to reach for his coat when Viktor handed him a pen too. Smiling slightly, he took it and wrote, _Not mad at you, just tired is all._ After a moment he added, _maybe I should drink more tea._ He handed the paper and pen back and heard Viktor’s quiet laugh. They passed notes back and forth through the meal, then Yuuri sent _good night xoxo_ to his fiancé and closed his eyes. They landed in Toronto. Sunlight poured through the window that Yuuri had forgotten to close and he rubbed his eyes. The plane taxied to a stop but was delayed at the gate, so the passengers milled around in the aisle. Yuuri leaned his elbows on the back of his seat and faced Viktor. 

“It’s a two-hour drive to the rink in Kitchener, right?” he asked. 

“Yes, so we should be there in enough time to get warmed up. The official practice time is passed of course but…” Yuuri just smiled at him. He took Viktor’s right hand and admired the ring as it shone in the sunlight. Viktor trailed off into silence and smiled back. They disembarked and followed the flow of people through customs and to the baggage claim. Yuri paced back and forth as they watched bag after bag pass them on the conveyer belt.

Finally, Viktor said, “I thought this might happen. Our bags must have not made the connection.” Yuri scowled. Viktor and Yuuri went to the counter to check about their luggage, leaving the teenager to guard their carry-ons. Once that was done, the three of them marched outside and Viktor hailed a cab. Yuri glared around in the bright sunshine, eyeing the road conditions. 

“Can I sit in front?” he asked Viktor.

“Sure you can,” said Viktor, stepping away from the passenger door. He willingly took the backseat with Yuuri. The cab ride was uneventful, if slow. Even though the highway was more than ten lanes wide, traffic advanced at a snail’s pace until they had cleared Toronto proper. Yuri fidgeted and twirled his hair into knots. A somewhat calmer Viktor called Yakov, reassuring him that they were in the country and on their way. After texting his sister the same message, Yuuri leaned against his fiancé and tried to clear his mind. Viktor clasped their hands together. Outside the rink, a crowd of press had gathered. Viktor squinted in the sunshine, missing his sunglasses which were sitting on the coffee table back in St. Petersburg. He gripped Yuuri’s hand and put his other arm around Yuri’s shoulders, guiding them all inside without stopping. Yakov met them just beyond the doors. 

“Finally!” He pulled Yuri into a distracted hug. “The junior competitions are half done already!”

“We are just lucky we made that flight and aren’t still sitting in Amsterdam,” said Viktor. Beside him, Yuuri nodded fervently.

“Yes, yes, well let’s get you registered. I’ve found the auxiliary rink where you can practice.” Yakov bustled them around the complex. Once he got his badge, Yuri disappeared to warm up on his own. Viktor had turned to his fiancé and opened his mouth when a black-haired person flew from nowhere and tackled Yuuri.

“Phichit?!”

“Yuuri! You made it! I was so worried when you told me about the blizzard!”

“We made it! I’m exhausted though,” said Yuuri, smiling at his friend.

“You should have done what I did! Got here a week early and visited the Detroit crew.”

“Yeah? How are they?”

“Good! Here I’ll show you pictures…” Phichit walked with them, chatting. When they reached the rink Viktor folded himself in half to stretch, then pulled on his skates. Yuri was already there, tracing slow figure eights on the opposite side of the rink. He had pinned his hair into a messy bun. Light from the high windows fell softly on the rink, painting it in grays. Viktor stepped out and knelt to kiss the ice.

“Vitya!” said Yuuri.

“Thank the Lord, we made it!” Viktor said, putting a hand over his heart and sweeping his arm wide in a dramatic gesture worthy of opera. He was bathed in a natural spotlight formed by sunlight on dust in the air. Yuuri and Phichit laughed. Even Yurio cracked a smile.

“I’ll leave y’all to practice,” said Phichit, “Text me later okay? Take care of yourselves!”

“See you!” As his friend left, Yuuri sighed and began his own stretches. Except for the sound of their blades, the rink had gone completely silent with the force of the Russians’ concentration. Yuuri slipped onto the ice and joined them. He sank into his routine, the music swelling in his head and finally clearing it of worry. Too quickly, the sun moved down until it was casting near-horizontal stripes above them. The rink glowed orange as Yuuri skated toward his fiancé. 

“Should we get checked into the hotel?” Viktor asked him, catching Yuuri around the waist to stop his motion. Yuuri nodded. 

“I want to lie down for a bit before this evening,” he said, shading his eyes against the brightness. Viktor waved Yuri over and explained their plan. 

“I’m not done practicing!” said Yuri.

“Yurio, you can barely stand up straight,” Yuuri pointed out. “Take a break, don’t exhaust yourself.” The teenager grumbled, but when Yuuri offered him an arm to lean on he took it and left the rink with them. They separated when Yuri left to find Yakov, with whom he was staying. Reuniting to share a cab over to the hotel, Yuri and Viktor were both unusually quiet. Skating had calmed them but also left them exhausted, all vestiges of adrenaline from the trip gone. Once at the hotel it was all Yuuri could do to keep his eyes open while Viktor got them checked in. Slumped in an armchair in the lobby, Yuri waited for them even though he already had a room key from his coach. In the elevator Yuri set his bag down and pulled off his jacket. He handed it to Viktor.

“Have this back, old man. I don’t need it anymore,” he said.

“Thank you,” said Viktor. Yuuri half-expected an acrid comment about the coffee stain covering one shoulder, but Viktor simply folded the jacket over his arm and sat back against the mirrored wall. Yuuri leaned on Viktor as his fiancé walked them down the hall and fumbled with the room key. As soon as the door was open Yuuri headed for the bed. He spread out, stretching his limbs in all directions and luxuriating in the feeling of having enough space. 

“Shower?” asked Viktor from the bathroom. “Otherwise I will.”

“I’m never leaving this bed again,” said Yuuri. He raised his head and caught Viktor grinning at him. His fiancé disappeared into the bathroom and soon Yuuri heard water in the pipes. His eyes closed and he blacked out. 

Viktor finished showering and laughed a little to himself when he saw Yuuri fast asleep and taking up most of the space on their king bed. He pulled a shirt over his head for warmth and carefully moved Yuuri’s arm out of the way so he could bury his face in the pillows. He was about to relax completely when he remembered that they needed an alarm. With a sigh, Viktor set a timer on his phone and laid it in front of his nose. His last conscious act was to place his hand in Yuuri’s open palm, then sleep claimed him.

“Yuuri.” Viktor nudged his fiancé. “Yuuri wake up, we need to get dinner.”

“Whah?” Yuuri blinked as Viktor’s face came into focus. “Wha time issit?”

“We slept about an hour, don’t worry there’s still plenty of time before the short program.”

“Oh,” Yuuri’s forehead crinkled, and Viktor’s heart missed a beat. “You got us here?” said Yuuri, tracing his hand across Viktor’s face. “Vitya, I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” said Viktor, enfolding Yuuri in a hug. He quashed the coach part of himself that was insisting they get up and go eat dinner, and kissed his fiancé. Yuuri tangled his fingers in Viktor’s hair and kissed back. A fierce knocking at the door interrupted them. After a moment Viktor got up to answer it, sighing. Yuuri tugged at his arm. 

“You don’t have any pants on,’ he pointed out.

“Oh, right.” Viktor had only worn a shirt to sleep in. He pulled on his crumpled sweatpants and opened the door with more force than was necessary. Yuri smirked at him and waltzed into the room. 

“Yakov told me to get dinner with you two, and then he wants all of us back at the rink.” Yuuri tucked his legs up to make room for the teenager, who plopped down on a corner of the bed. “Yakov probably called you too, old man.”

“I was asleep,” muttered Viktor. “Please tell me you got some sleep too.”

“Nope, just more coffee from the hotel bar!” said Yuri. Viktor groaned. 

“We can get some food into you, at least. Just let me get properly dressed first.” Viktor opened Yuuri’s bag by mistake and stared at it in confusion for a moment before going to his own. He pulled out a clean pair of workout pants. “Yuuri, you should change too; you’ve been wearing that outfit since we left St. Petersburg.” His fiancé grunted assent and reluctantly climbed out of bed. Yuri turned his face away while they changed. Dinner was at a deli less than a block away from the hotel, then they were back to the rink. They successfully dodged the reporters, but a certain Swiss skater proved harder to miss. Christophe clapped Viktor and his fiancé on the shoulders as Yuri ducked sideways and vanished. 

“You escaped the storm in Russia! I thought you would never make it!”

“Well here we are, just in time,” said Viktor. “But I must say I’m surprised to see you; you aren’t competing this final, right?” Chris winced.

“Ach, don’t remind me. Still, I couldn’t miss the opportunity to see you all perform again!” he said, batting his eyes at Yuuri, who blushed. “Injury may have struck me down for now, but never fear, I’ll beat you in at the next Euros!” He tipped a wink at Viktor.

“I look forward to it,” said Viktor with his own wink. He caught Yuuri’s eye and added, “We should be getting ready.”

“Of course, of course, I’ll go languish in the stands…” Christophe walked away with a slight limp, noticeable only because they were looking for it.

“He’ll be okay, won’t he?” Yuuri asked. Viktor was staring after the skater. 

“I think he will. He’s improved a lot already since we last saw him.” Viktor sighed a little and rubbed his forehead. He took Yuuri’s hand, and together they walked to the dressing room. 

“Yuuri come here, let me do your makeup,” said Viktor, brandishing a powder brush. Yuuri finished threading his arm through the sleeve of his costume and obediently sat in front of his coach as Viktor applied foundation.

“Your collar’s twisted again,” he said reaching out to fix it. Viktor took his hand and pressed it to his lips. They looked up as JJ Leroy swaggered into the dressing room, yelling to someone over his shoulder. 

“Viktor, Yuuri! I’m glad you finally got here; winning wouldn’t have felt the same with you gone.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, JJ,” said Viktor, his smile cold. JJ walked over to a mirror and began putting on his own makeup. Yuuri took the opportunity to un-tuck Viktor’s costume, planting a kiss on his fiancé’s neck as he did so. Ignoring Viktor’s sudden blush, he got up and went to put on his skates. Viktor busied himself applying eyeliner with a hand mirror. After a bit Yuri wandered over.

“Can you do my hair?” he asked Viktor, holding his hair out of the way of his sequined costume. 

“I’d love to! Lilia never braids it quite right.” Viktor took the offered brush and pulled it through Yuri’s hair, his hands sure. Across the dressing room, his fiancé smiled at them. Phichit leaned over.

“Since when are they this close?” he whispered. Yuuri shrugged. 

“They just have to remember that they’re friends is all, and not cover it up with bickering,” he said. Viktor’s eyes flickered toward them but he said nothing. The final men’s qualifier, Otabek Atlin, entered the dressing room and Yuri twitched. A warning pressure from Viktor’s hands kept him from moving, but he waved hesitantly. Otabek nodded back. 

“There, finished!” said Viktor as he tied off the elaborate braid. 

“Just in time, too!” said Yakov, leaning around the doorframe. “On the ice in five minutes, be ready both of you!” He nodded to Yuuri and closed the door. 

“Well,” said Viktor. He packed away his supplies and stood up. Oblivious to the other skaters, he draped one arm around Yuri’s shoulder and pulled his fiancé close with the other. “Since we’re here, why don’t we take the podium, hm?” 

“I’m going to destroy you both.” said Yuri, grinning. Yuuri just smiled and leaned his head against Viktor’s shoulder. They led the way into the arena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! took about eight thousands words but the boys made it! 
> 
> follow me on [tumblr](http://celeste-de-la-mancha.tumblr.com) if you like! fair warning though, I reblog more cat pictures than fan content. 
> 
> also, I have a third chapter written but it needs some editing still. 
> 
> much love,  
> Cat


	3. Chapter 3

Lights flashed and popped around Yuri, overwhelming him for a moment. Viktor squeezed his shoulders and he steadied, taking in the cameras and the ice glinting in the light. As they passed, Yakov made eye contact and nodded slowly to him. He heard the words unspoken: _You can do this, Yurotchka._ A bell rang and he took to the ice just after Viktor amid the roar of the crowd. Yuri shook his head to clear it and, after skating a few laps, he launched into a perfect triple axel. Nearby, Viktor broke from practicing a step sequence to flash him a brilliant grin. 

The crowd and the other skaters were indistinguishable blurs to Yuuri, which he appreciated. It was easier to tune everything out and focus on his skating. All too soon he heard the bell signaling the end of warm up and moved toward the boards. Viktor skated into view and waved at him.

“Yuuri! They’re giving us a few extra minutes!” he called. Yuuri blinked. The other skaters had left but he could make out Yuri and Viktor still practicing. Gratefully, he launched himself back onto the rink and skated through a portion of his free skate. They left the ice with flushed cheeks. Yakov and Lilia immediately claimed Yuri and they conferred in low voices. The first skater was announced, prompting Yuri to break away from his coaches and rush to the boards.

“Otabek, davai!” he shouted. Otabek flashed him their customary thumbs up as he glided to the center of the rink. With a powerful stroke of his arms he opened the competition. After him, Phichit took to the ice with a broad grin for the crowd. Yuri performed third. Viktor and his fiancé reappeared from the remote warm up room they had found to wish him good luck. 

“Don’t let a storm defeat you Yurio!” said Yuuri. 

“Yes, leave it to Yuuri to beat you instead,” added Viktor. His fiancé shot him an outraged look and elbowed him in the stomach. Yakov dragged Yuri away from them, glaring over his shoulder at Viktor who pretended not to notice. 

“Davai!” It was Otabek of course, and Yuri gave him a smile and a thumbs up. Once at the center of the rink, he took a deep breath and held it. He coiled all the frustrations of the past two days inside him. As the music started he let everything go and burst into motion. From the sidelines Viktor and Yuuri watched, Yuuri with a hand pressed to his mouth and Viktor’s expression focused.

“I told you,” murmured Viktor. “He could skate on pure spite if he needed to. We never had to worry.” Yuuri squeezed his hand. A little away from them, Yakov beamed with pride. Lilia merely pursed her lips, but her eyes were warmer than usual. The next skater was JJ, and he shot a challenging glare towards Yuuri and Viktor as he took the ice. Neither of them saw it as they were both waving to Yuri at the kiss and cry. The teenager looked exhausted, but when he saw his score he gave a satisfied smile. As JJ’s program progressed Yuuri felt his nerves mounting. He and Viktor stretched side by side next to the rink. Hands shaking, Yuuri led Viktor over to the boards. He stepped onto the ice. 

“Yuuri, look at me.” Yuuri dragged his eyes up to meet Viktor’s gaze. “Do you know what day it is?”

“Um, it’s Friday–,”

“No Yuuri, it’s our anniversary. One year ago today, you proposed.” Viktor’s eyes were soft. Yuuri’s widened.

“I forgot! With all the stress, I forgot! I was planning to give you something but it’s at home–,” Viktor put his hands over Yuuri’s. 

“So skate this program for me, then. Beat your personal best. That would be an acceptable present.” He smiled at Yuuri’s expression. “I didn’t remember until earlier this evening,” Viktor added. Yuuri grinned and pulled him into a tight hug. His fiancé sighed against him. 

“And now… representing Japan, Yuuri Katsuki!” rang out from the speakers. Yuuri clasped hands with Viktor, rings flashing, and was off. He beamed through his whole performance, driving the audience wild. Viktor met him as he came off the rink, eyes shining. 

“Thank you, thank you,” he murmured against Yuuri’s cheek. They made their way to the kiss and cry, clinging together so that it was hard to walk. Yakov marched up to them.

“Vitya, you need to be getting ready for your own performance,” he said. Yuuri pulled away from his fiancé. 

“He’s right, Vitya,” he said, keeping his voice steady to mask his disappointment. 

“But I can’t just leave you–,”

“I’ll sit with him,” said Yuri. “Go warm up, idiot.” He dragged Yuuri to the bench. Viktor let Yuuri’s hand slip out of his with a forlorn expression. When Yakov snapped at him he turned the gesture into a stretch, starting to move through his opening step sequence.

“Thank you,” said Yuuri. Yuri shrugged. 

“That was a good program,” he said. “Some of your jumps still need polishing though…” Yuuri grinned and gripped the teenager’s hand, stopping the lecture. His score appeared on the board above them. Yuri raised his eyebrows.

“You still haven’t beaten my record but that’s damn close.” 

“Next time Yurio, next time.” They left the bench to see Viktor off. Yakov hugged his oldest student. Viktor reached out and clasped Yuuri’s right hand in his own. He skated to the center of the rink amid thunderous applause. For a moment Viktor’s eyes unfocused as he was hit with a wave of exhaustion. As he settled into his starting pose he met Yuuri’s gaze and his heart lifted. His energy flooded back with the music and he skated, keeping his eyes on his fiancé as much as possible. 

They leaned against each other at the kiss and cry. Viktor missed hearing his score and had to have Yakov repeat it for him. He waved to the crowd and summoned his trademark smile, though it cost him. The gentle pressure of Yuuri’s hand on his arm kept him upright. Viktor revived a little when they met Mila, Phichit, and Christophe, all intent on congratulating him and the Yuris. 

“That was amazing!” Mila said, gripping Viktor’s hand. “You looked like you were about to pass out there for a minute, but then you skated through it!”

“Thanks Mila,” he muttered. 

“What happened to your jacket?” asked Chris, tapping his shoulder. 

“Oh, Yurio spilled coffee on it, when, this morning?” he asked as he turned to Yuuri, who was hugging Phichit.

“Huh? Oh, the coffee. Was that really this morning?” his fiancé asked, smothering a yawn. “Feels like so long ago.”

“We have been awake too damn long,” said Yuri from where he had been talking to Otabek. 

“Twenty, twenty-five hours,” said Yuuri as he did the math. Viktor sagged against him. “A lot’s happened too, remember when we almost died? That was today.” 

“That is it, I’m taking all three of you home,” said Yakov, grabbing Viktor and Yuri by the elbows and dragging them outside. Viktor had to credit his coach for getting them back to the hotel, as he descended into a heavy fog of exhaustion and barely remembered the journey. Once they were in their room Yuuri wrapped his arms around Viktor.

“Happy anniversary,” he said. He sighed into Viktor’s chest. “I’m so tired,” he added in a low voice. Viktor chuckled.

“Me too, me too. We’ll celebrate properly tomorrow,” he said. Yuuri pulled him into bed and turned off the light. 

The next day passed in a blur. They met for early morning practice, Yuri with ugly circles under his eyes and Yuuri carrying the largest mug of tea he could find. JJ opened his mouth at the sight of them but closed it again when Yuri shot him a filthy glare. After practice Yuri crashed in his room. Viktor and Yuuri followed close behind, Viktor taking a brief detour through the lobby and presenting his fiancé with a huge bundle of roses. 

“How did you even get these?” Yuuri asked once he stopped blushing. “We haven’t been apart more than a few minutes since we landed.” 

“I have my ways, love,” Viktor winked, not quite managing to keep his grin in check. Yuuri laughed and leaned in for a kiss, careful not to crush his bouquet. The ladies’ short program was in the evening. Mila did well, though Lilia still pulled her aside after the kiss and cry to discuss technique, demonstrating with broad gestures of her arms. 

Yuuri, Viktor and Yuri went into the free skate well-rested and full of confidence. They crushed it. Gold medal around his neck, Yuuri wrapped his arms around the other two and beamed at the cameras. With an air of ceremony, Viktor took his fiancé's gold medal and pressed it to his lips. Yuri made a disgusted noise. After the awards ceremony JJ walked up to them. He took a deep breath and stuck out his hand to Viktor. 

“You all skated brilliantly,” JJ said. His jaw twitched. Viktor’s face softened as he shook the offered hand. The silver medal glinted on his chest. 

“You as well. Sorry to beat you in your home territory,” he said. Yuuri elbowed him quiet and shook JJ’s hand with a warm smile. Yuri glanced at Viktor before accepting JJ’s handshake. He let go very quickly. There was a pause, then they all found a direction to hurry away in. 

“He’s growing up, too,” said Yuuri to Viktor as they walked toward the interview room. 

“Hm,” was all Viktor said in response. On his other side, Yuri scowled. Yuuri faced the reporters, grateful for the table between him and them. Beside him, Viktor was answering questions with an easy grace. 

“Mr. Katsuki, how have you enjoyed living in St. Petersburg this past year?” Yuri blinked. 

“St. Petersburg is a wonderful city,” he said. “Except for the occasional apocalyptic blizzard of course,” he couldn’t help adding. Viktor rolled his eyes to heaven and Yuri groaned and buried his face in his hands. The reporters laughed, oblivious to the skaters’ pain. 

“What are your plans for the future?” asked another. Yuuri smiled, no longer dreading the inevitable question. 

“Well,” he looked sideways. “Viktor and I will have to get married soon, now that I have a gold medal. Don’t you think?” His fiancé grabbed his hand.

“ _Yes,_ ” said Viktor. He held Yuuri’s gaze for a long moment. The reporters stood with bated breath while camera shutters whirred. “Oh, and Yurotchka will have to be our flower girl!” Viktor said, leaning around Yuuri. Yuri jerked up in his chair. 

“Leave me out of this!” he said. Yuuri and Viktor dissolved into laughter as he continued to protest. In the wings, Yakov put his head in his hands. Lilia patted him on the shoulder. The coaches’ patience was tested yet again during the banquet, when Phichit and Chris led the now-traditional dance off. Without even the excuse of alcohol lowering his inhibitions, Yuri challenged Yuuri for his new gold medal. Yuuri won. 

“I’m not about to give up this medal, Yurio. It’s part of Viktor’s coaching fee,” he explained.

“You’re such an idiot,” said Yuri, scowling. He stomped off. Yuuri and Viktor closed the night with a fiery tango that had even Chris blushing. 

“Just think, what will their wedding be like?” said Mila innocently to Yuri. He threw himself to the ground while she cackled. 

The next morning found them wandering in a haze through the Toronto Pearson airport. Viktor held a hand to his forehead and Yuri stared at the ground. 

“Is this our gate?” asked Yuuri.

“Hell if I know,” Viktor muttered. 

“Hey it’s Otabek! Beka, hi!” said Yuri, rushing forward. They greeted the Kazakh skater.

“You are on the flight to Frankfurt as well?” asked Otabek. Yuuri nodded. “It has been delayed two hours.”

“Oh _no,_ ” said Viktor. He threw himself into a seat behind Otabek. “Not this _again._ Wasn’t getting here bad enough?” Yuuri patted him on the arm. As Yakov went to check with the gate agent Yuri sat down next to Otabek and started chatting. Viktor raised his eyebrows at Yuuri, who put a finger to his lips. Mila picked up her purse.

“I’m off for coffee, want anything?”

“Green tea if they have it, please,” said Yuuri. Viktor shook his head at Mila’s questioning look. 

“I’m going to take a nap.” He settled down on Yuuri’s shoulder. She shrugged and left. Their flight had been delayed yet again and Viktor was awake and talking to a blushing Yuuri about wedding plans when Christophe walked up.

“Is this the flight to Frankfurt?” he asked them. 

“If it ever leaves, then yes,” said Viktor, gesturing to the toteboard that showed their flight delayed a total of three hours. Chris cursed.

“And here I was, thinking I was running late.” He sank into the seat across from them and Viktor drew him into a discussion about flowers. 

“Do you think this airport has an ice rink?” Yuri asked a while later, poking at Viktor.

“I don’t know. This is Canada, though.”

“No ice rink,” said Yuuri, looking up from his phone. “But JJ has an apartment in Toronto doesn’t he? If we get stuck here we can crash at his place.” Viktor and Chris burst out laughing. Yakov waved them quiet as the speaker system crackled to life. 

“Boarding for flight 1762 service to Frankfurt begins in ten minutes.” The skaters all cheered, drawing looks from the other passengers though a couple of little girls cheered with them. From Frankfurt, the Russian skaters and Yuuri made it onto the last flight to St. Petersburg. It was night by the time they landed. Surrounded by luggage, the group stood in Pulkovo Airport. Outside, a light snow was falling, flakes caught in cones of light from the streetlamps. Yakov put a hand on Viktor’s shoulder.

“Take tomorrow off, Vitya,” he said.

“Thank you, we will,’ said Viktor, smiling at Yuuri. 

“Well, I’m off,” said Mila through a yawn. She slapped Viktor on the back and pulled Yuuri into a hug. “'Bye all.” At the last minute she tackled Yuri, who yelped but submitted to the hug with minimal protest.

“Hag,” he said to her back as she left and she cheerfully flipped him off. Lilia swatted Yuri on the ear. 

“We should get going too,” said Viktor. After a moment of sorting out their bags, he and Yuuri turned to Yuri.

“It’s been lovely travelling with you,” said Yuuri, holding out his hand to shake. Viktor pushed past his fiancé and grabbed the teenager in a hug. Yuri tensed and then hugged back. “Come ‘round tomorrow afternoon,” said Yuuri as he embraced Yuri in turn. “We can make pirozhki.” Yuri glanced at him, their eyes almost level now with the teenager’s still-increasing height. 

“Okay. See you,” he said. Viktor beamed at him. With a final wave they were off, dragging skating bags and suitcases. Snow fell softly around them. Yuuri reached out and caught a snowflake on his palm. Inside, Yakov grunted and hoisted Yuri’s skating bag on his shoulder. 

“Let’s go home.” He, Yuri and Lilia went to his car and soon they were at the house. Yakov grumbled at the snow covering his driveway but did nothing about it. Yuri anticipated having to shovel the next morning and stifled a groan. His room was as he’d left it, possessions scattered everywhere in his haste to pack. His cat was curled up on his bed. When Yuri came in she woke up and stalked away to glare at him reproachfully from the dresser. 

“Sorry, I had to go compete! Not like I wanted to leave you!” he said. When this got no response he shrugged and started to unpack. He held up Viktor’s t-shirt and sighed. “Meant to give this back yesterday,” he muttered before throwing it on the ground in front of the door so it would be in the way tomorrow. He climbed into bed and checked his phone. The cat crept towards him and he pretended to ignore her until she curled up in his lap. Yuri petted her and the sound of her purring filled the room. As he closed his eyes he heard Viktor’s voice saying “Amazing!” and Yuuri’s quiet accompanying laugh. 

The apartment was colder than Yuuri expected and he shivered as Viktor levered open the door. He forgot the chill as Makkachin whirled into the entryway and bowled over Viktor. The man went down laughing and rubbed Makka’s ears while she tried to lick his face off. Yuuri closed the door and crouched down. As soon as he put out his hand Makkachin abandoned Viktor to greet him. They hauled their bags through the dim apartment and into the bedroom with Makkachin getting underfoot. Viktor turned on the lights and they collapsed on the bed. Yuuri rolled over and leaned his head on his fiancé’s chest. Soft yellow light from the bedside lamp illuminated them. 

“Home at last,” he said. Makkachin jumped up and snuggled up against his other side. Viktor stroked his hair. 

“We’ve come a long way since last year,” his fiancé murmured. 

“Mhm hm. I’m going to marry you, aren’t you excited?” Viktor choked on something that might have been a laugh and shifted under him.

“I love you, Katsuki Yuuri,” he said in accented Japanese.

“I love you too,” said Yuuri in Russian. He tilted his head up to meet Viktor’s kiss. The city glowed with golden light on the new blanket of snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and it's done! thanks everyone so much for reading, and leaving kudos and comments! it means a lot.
> 
> I had a lot of fun with this! of course, i'm only borrowing these characters and hopefully we'll get a season two soon that will destroy all my headcannons. 
> 
> check out my mostly-cat-filled [tumblr](http://celeste-de-la-mancha.tumblr.com) if you'd like!
> 
> much love,  
> Cat


End file.
